VIVA LA DIFFERENCE

(Follow up--last week's obits included a "Dink" and a "Whiz". I guess they were too sick to read my blog.)

Spending an extended amount of time outside the US makes one acutely aware of cultural differences. Here in Mexico, for instance, you can buy a four ounce bottle of mayonnaise but you can't get a bottle of grenadine that's less than a quart. I guess that means tequila sun rises are more popular than tuna salad.

I don't always understand their choices. They wear a lot of polyester. Even in the summer. And any time you pass a work site, unlike the US where there would be many workers and one foreman, here there usually is one worker and a dozen overseers commenting on the progress. To be fair, most are just passers by. Most of the kitchens have no oven, and they don't eat bread.

On the other hand we do have a lot of things in common. The Mexican's love the beach, dogs, and children. Anyone would be lucky to have a Mexican son-in-law. They are hard working, entrepreneurial, and very family oriented. Sometimes differences are better.

Viva la Difference

My friend Jules has once again reminded me that the distance between men and women is measured in light years. Women have two transitions in their lives, menarche and menopause. They go slightly crazy with each one then brush off their hands and move on. Men, on the other hand, have many small transitions which occur more frequently as they get older. I like to call them minipauses.

Jules was in a funk the other day. When I asked what was wrong he sighed and started to reminisce, remembering the first time a waitress called him sir. It was one of the highlights of his life and was the first time, he said, he really felt like a man.

This made me realize that for most of men’s lives, older is better, a fact that is almost never true of women. I sadly recall the first time I was sold liquor without being asked for proof. My funk lasted for days.

Jules went on to say that recently a clerk in the grocery store called him honey. Listening with my ears instead of his, I couldn’t find the problem. His funk sank deeper when I responded, “So?” You’d think that after almost 72 years he would know that women need an explanation. They don’t instantly understand. Unless they’re talking to another woman of course.

He sighed again and started enunciating slowly and clearly as though he was talking to a brain damaged rodent. “It makes me feel as if I’m a five year old asking for a Happy Meal. It lacks respect.”

Suddenly I got it. The whole “Men are from Mars” thing. While women thrive on love, men require respect. The epiphany gave me a headache. Is it possible that with this knowledge I could broker a peace in the war of the sexes? Do I want to? (Am I starting to sound like Carrie Bradshaw?)

Of course men and women are different. At risk of being politically incorrect, so are blacks and whites, straights and gays, young and old, yada, yada, yada. It’s always been this way. When did it become unacceptable? A crime? When did different become bad? We really need to get over this Tower of Babel neurosis. It’s no longer valid. Nobody’s looking for God any more. At least not on foot. I’ll admit that xenophobia is wrong but we can be different without prejudices. Can’t we be different and get the same pay? Can’t we be different and do whatever job strikes our fancy? I’ve never heard a little girl say she wanted to be a fire person when she grew up. Why not? There must be girls who are just as in love with red trucks and yellow rubber suits as most boys are.

One thing men do differently than women is shop for groceries. Except for house husbands and chefs, men like to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible. I sent Jules for a green pepper the other day. He came home with the most anemic looking specimen--it looked as if it had matured in a dark basement with mushrooms. That’s because men grab whatever fruit or vegetable is on top of the pile. Women don’t do that. They spend enormous amounts of time squeezing, pinching and weighing each piece of produce they intend to buy. Even women with full time jobs take the time to do this.

And why is it so hard for men to find things in the refrigerator? It isn’t the black hole of Calcutta. If whatever they want doesn’t leap off the shelf into their waiting arms they assume there isn’t any more--say--mustard, or they bellow for specific directions. Being in the next room isn’t a detriment to the lady of the house. She can put her mind’s eye on anything the box contains and give an exact location. This must be a genetic mutation because I’m sure these differences aren’t taught either at home or in school.

It’s a fact that men and women do not share the same logic. For instance, Jules constantly tells me that I can’t compare apples and oranges. Of course I can. They are both round, sweet, fruit. They grow on trees. They have skin and seeds. How come I can’t compare them? Jules says it’s just an expression. It means you can’t compare two things that are different. Well, it’s a stupid expression if you ask me. If you can’t compare things that are different then what can you compare? Things that are the same? How do you compare things that are the same? Oh. This one’s bigger. Here’s an expression for you, you can’t compare big ones with little ones. As I said...stupid.

You do have to admit that being different is interesting. My mother always said if people were all the same it would be a boring world. She was a smart lady.